


Do Not Push This Button.

by Khadgarfield



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom!Flynn, Established Relationship, First Time Topping, Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, Kissing, M/M, Rough Sex, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27364762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khadgarfield/pseuds/Khadgarfield
Summary: Spymaster Mathias Shaw is measured and predictable. Flynn Fairwind really isn't.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Comments: 13
Kudos: 89





	Do Not Push This Button.

**Author's Note:**

> mm.
> 
> All yall who did this know who tf you are.
> 
> Also i am sorry if theres any spelling or grammar errors i am what the kids call fuckin clueless

He was not normally the impulsive type.

In fact, most people would attest to the fact that Spymaster Mathias Shaw, head of the Stormwind Intelligence military division and Professionally Sensible Person, was in fact the exact opposite.

A small, sleek man, with pointed features and sharp eyes, the spymaster had a distinct severity about him – the kind of bearing that ensured people remembered him as much larger and more imposing than he truly was. His countenance was elegant and aloof, his mannerisms disciplined and methodical, and any stranger who laid eyes upon him might have thought that the most spontaneous thing he had done in the last decade was go to bed one night without taking his socks off. 

With all that said, the people on Azeroth who knew him best were aware that there were certain things that put him on edge. Captain Flynn Fairwind, ex-pirate, was the person who knew his quirks and habits best of all.

Spymaster Shaw sat at the banquet table, enduing yet another agonizing Nobelgarden feast, held more to please the nobility than to provide entertainment to the guests and citizens of the city. Either side of him, a pair of nobles, and opposite, his illustrious companion, who had told him quite enthusiastically that he had never been to a banquet before, and that the food _had_ to be decent at an event like this hadn’t it?

Mathias and Flynn had been happily involved for many moons now, though a more unlikely pair it would seem nigh impossible to come across, and this was obvious even as they sat facing each other, involved in separate conversations and consuming vastly different quantities of springtime delicacies. Where Flynn was burly and loud, shoveling vegetables and wine and roasted rabbit into his face at breakneck speed, Mathias was precise and brooding, picking at a small heap of peas with a fork and wondering when dessert was due to arrive. Where Flynn was dynamic, and confident, starting conversations with people exponentially higher than him in rank, Mathias sat in silence watching the chaos of the evening unfolding. He knew at the soonest opportunity, he would be disappearing into the shadows once again. He vastly preferred the company of himself over that of others.

Well, most others.

It was strange, he mused as he watched Flynn talking to Sky Admiral Rodgers with food in his mouth, the number of exceptions he tended to make for the illustrious Captain. He knew that realistically Flynn could do _anything_ to him – mess up his paperwork, shave off his moustache, or spit in his laundry – and he would just sit there and take it with a neutral expression on his face. Luckily, Flynn wasn’t the kind of person to take advantage of him. Maybe that was why he loved him so much?

Hard to say.

Mathias didn’t spend much time thinking about why he had fallen so hard for Flynn – he tended to spend more time thinking about how it was everyone else hadn’t. Flynn made his heart flutter and his hands shake. He drew Mathias in for kisses when they were out walking. He jabbed him lightly in the side when he was trying to work. He teased him openly when they were around people, and acted exactly like the cocky scoundrel he was even in the midst of the most serious meetings, and he _absolutely_ wound Mathias up on purpose more than ninety nine percent of the time. The worst part was that in spite of this (because of it, even), he still had a knack for making Mathias flustered and embarrassingly needy. It would not have been an understatement to say that Flynn Fairwind had the man under his heel, but of course thanks to his demeanor and a reputation twenty-five years in the making, most of his friends, colleagues and underlings had no idea.

Mathias jumped when he heard someone clear their throat next to his ear.

“Are you listening, Spymaster? I was just saying to Lord Aldous that the sudden influx of Kul Tiran ships in the harbor has been upsetting my ability to import fine furs from Kalimdor.”

“Oh,” Mathias came back to himself quickly. “of course. My apologies, I was just lost in thought for a moment there.” He pulled his eyes away from Flynn, who was discussing something about the difference between air and sea transport and gesticulating openly to emphasize his points.

“I had thought you and the other Lords were informed. Although it may be mildly inconvenient for some during peak months, the King seeks to prioritize free access to trade goods for common folk as well as provide opportunities for work and economic progression. Opening trade with Kul Tiras is a major step towards achieving that goal.”

As a Spymaster and not a tradesman, Mathias did not give a single fuck about economics. He found the whole subject very dry, and never understood why the House of Lords were so insistent upon discussing it. Because it was a formal event, however, and some hapless fool had fucked him over royally with the seating plan, he now had to wear his most gracious expression and handle all inquiries along these lines with dignity they did not deserve. Easier said than done, when he was feeling so... distracted.

It might have been career ruining, he mused, if word got out that the man seated opposite him made him want to do reckless things. The specific kind of reckless things he wanted to do? Well... Mathias hadn’t gotten that far in his thought processes yet. He knew that whatever it was, it would have to be small to start with. And he knew it would probably be something that most people would consider reasonably dull. It occurred to him occasionally that it was kind of ridiculous, to be a man widely regarded as prosaic even though he had personally assassinated some of the most dangerous criminals in alliance history without batting an eye, and more than once he spared a moment to bristle about it, but ultimately it he decided it wasn’t worth fretting about. There was a difference, after all, between garroting a mark who had been identified and trailed for weeks, and doing something light-hearted and impromptu like... oh, he didn’t know. Grabbing Flynn by the ponytail and giving it a pull?

Yes, for some reason the ponytail specifically had possessed him of late. Several times a day Mathias found himself turning his gaze to it, hanging sleek and tidy at the back of Flynn’s head. When he walked, it moved with him. When he talked, it sometimes swung over one shoulder and rested there against the lambskin lapel of his coat. Sometimes, when he was lost in thought, he would run his hand down the length of it in a way that made Mathias flush, and he would have to excuse himself from whatever company they happened to be in. This was what Flynn did now, at the table during the Nobelgarden banquet at Stormwind keep, and Mathias saw it out of the corner of his eye. Once again, he snapped his head around, forgetting that he was supposed to be talking to Count Ridgewell about fur imports or whatever else. Flynn, as though feeling his eyes drilling into him, paused in his conversation and turned his head an increment to meet his eye. Mathias felt his guts knot up, as Flynn blinked in surprise, before his face broke into a warm smile.

_Hey handsome._

“Spymaster!”

Lord Lescovar sounded annoyed. Mathias flushed and turned back to the conversation.

It was beginning to be more than a small distraction. In that moment he resolved to do something about it. Right now, though, he needed a little more space to breathe and to think.

“Yes, Lord Lescovar. Pardon my rudeness. I was just checking to see if Captain Fairwind was available to field your question. As an esteemed Kul Tiran Sailor in charge of several of the trade ships you have gripe with, I am sure he is more qualified to help answer you than I am.”

He could see Flynn freeze in shock at the redirection.

“What?”

Too late. Ridgewell and Lescovar had already shifted their attention. Mathias shot him a restrained, only half apologetic smile, and dropped his napkin down on the plate in front of him. Flynn’s expression was hilarious, even by the spymaster’s very dry standards, and Mathias knew he was going to complain about this for _days._

He raised himself out of his seat, gave the three of them a stiff nod, and excused himself promptly.

He hadn’t even wanted to go to the banquet in the first place.

…

He only noticed how difficult this was going to be once he consciously made an effort to look for an opportunity.

Usually ruthless and efficient, Mathias could lift anything and kill anyone – he wasn’t sure if it was something he actively elected to do every time, or simply muscle memory, but whatever it was there was no disputing that he was a natural and it stood to reason that such skills would be highly transferable to this specific context.

Wouldn’t they?

Apparently, this was not the case.

It wasn’t that the chances to make the move weren’t forthcoming, and it wasn’t that Flynn was simply too deft to be caught, it was more a matter of… fatal hesitation. There were too many moments that Mathias _could_ have done it, but failed to follow through, either because the thought occurred to him too slowly and the opportunity passed, or the opportunity lingered a second longer than it should have and he ended up psyching himself out. He was no stranger to touching Flynn, which made the difficulty of the act even more puzzling, but he realised as he sat at the table one morning watching him panfry seven eggs and a side of bacon that he never really touched Flynn’s _hair._ Not properly. It was surprisingly difficult to do, when he kept it tied out of the way like that.

“You really stitched me up there, Mat,” Flynn was faced away from him, focused on cooking. Mathias nursed a mug of black coffee, not yet fully awake but not so asleep that he wasn’t able to respond.

“What?”

“At the banquet.”

Flynn poked at the eggs with the end of the spatula. The smell of breakfast was thick in the air, and it made Mathias’ mouth water.

“Oh. Did I?”

He hadn’t thought of the banquet in the week since it had happened. He had thought Flynn had forgotten all about it as well.

“Yeah. I saw some chap down by the harbor at dawnbreak this morning who reminded me about it – mentioned he worked for one of those lords of yours.”

“ _Mine_? I don’t think so, Captain.”

Flynn laughed and turned off the stove top, moving to retrieve a pair of plates from the cabinet next to the window. The transparent sunlight of late morning was spilling into the kitchen, highlighting licks of melted copper in his tresses.

“Well anyway, after he left, I got to thinking. Does the council even know about our romantic arrangement?”

“Why would they?” Mathias asked. “People don’t tend to gossip about my personal life.”

“Fear of retaliation?”

“Something like that.”

More likely, it was because most people considered him vastly uninteresting, with no notable personal life to gossip on.

Flynn tsked and plated up their breakfast. When he moved, his ponytail swayed in sync with his movements. Mathias found the motion strangely hypnotic. When Flynn brought the plate over, and set it down in front of him, his hair slipped over his shoulder and there was a moment Mathias felt his whole soul try and jump out of him.

_Now! Do it now! It’s the perfect opening!_

The moment passed very quickly. 

Flynn sat down in his chair, out of reach, and began to demolish his plate of food like he had been starved for a month. Mathias sipped his coffee, trying to look as though the thought hadn’t even occurred to him, and succeeding.

 _Next time,_ He told himself, _I will absolutely do it._

Next time, though, the two of them were in bed – it had gone midnight, and Flynn had only just returned home from a long journey. In spite of this, he had sought to do his duty, bowed over Mathias with his breath ragged and his skin hot. Mathias held his face and kissed him deeply, and found his lust to be sweet, but weary. It had been a long trip, he supposed, and as a consequence the sex was notably lacking something. It definitely wasn’t passion, but it might have been willpower, and ultimately Mathias pushed him away. Flynn rolled off him without complaint, and they just lay there for a bit catching their breath. Flynn let his forehead rest against Mathias’ shoulder, a silent apology he didn’t need to give. Mathias didn’t care that much, but he wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to do with his lingering erection.

He rolled onto his side, so they could lay face to face, and Flynn adjusted himself to pull him into his arms.

“Sorry love,” He murmured. “I’m a little burned out,”

“It’s okay,” Mathias told him.

Flynn pressed a kiss against his brow, and his goatee tickled the places it touched. Mathias could smell his hair, freshly washed after getting off the boat, and the spicy-woody perfume of the oil he brushed through the ends. The touch of his lips was still alluring, pulling Mathias in like a moth draws closer to a flame, and he tipped his chin back so they could kiss properly for a little longer. It occurred to him then, that all he needed to do, was just reach around and grab it. Flynn’s ponytail.

It really would be just that easy.

So easy, in fact, that his hand twitched, shifting from Flynn’s chest to the side of his neck, and he was _just_ about to make the move from the side of his neck to the base of the ponytail when Flynn pulled back and sighed heavily.

“I need a haircut,” He mumbled, pulling out the band he used to hold it and scooping all of his hair back off his face. “I keep lying on it by accident.”

Mathias could have screamed in frustration, as he watched him twist it up into a tidy knot at the top of his head.

 _Next time!_ He told himself with a dogged intensity _Next time I’m going to do it!_

The next opportunity, however, didn’t present itself for a few weeks more.

This time, it was on the deck of the _Bold Arva._ Flynn’s ships weren’t places Mathias often frequented – he had had more than enough of boats to last a lifetime - but Flynn had just gotten back from yet another trip and Mathias had just happened to see the _Arva_ in port as he had departed his favourite bookstore in the Mage Quarter. It wouldn’t hurt to come down and see how he was doing, surely?

 _Was this impulsive?_ He wondered, as he passed by a number of seamen unloading cargo. The sun was shining, the waters were blue, and a number of gulls spiraled overhead. Mathias could smell the familiar scent of the ocean, stronger here than when it lingered on Flynn’s coat and skin. When he mounted the gangplank and made his way up towards deck, he could hear Flynn shouting orders, even though he couldn’t see him yet.

Flynn spotted him first, head snapping around when he saw the shadow of someone who was not on his crew from the corner of his eye. He looked confused for a moment, but then pleased, his face shifting into a wide grin.

“Mat! What are you doing here?” he called, gesturing to the woman Mathias recognized as his Deck Officer that he would be back in a moment to finish their conversation. She nodded, and watched him hurry over to meet Mathias as he made to step onboard.

“Right foot first,” He warned him, but Mathias remembered as much from his time on the _Wind’s Redemption_. He also remembered, now he was standing here, how much he _hated_ the feeling of being on the water. He seemed to have lost his stomach for it in the past few months, registering every tiny creak and sway happening beneath his feet.

“I saw you had moored when I left the bookstore,” Mathias told him. “and decided I would come and ask what you might like for dinner. I’ll go to the market on my way home so you don’t have to.”

“Aw. You _do_ love me.” Flynn laughed and leaned in close to peck Mathias’ cheek. “but you don’t need to do that. I have some fine Boralus tidbits I'm bringing home, so we can just have that.”

Mathias gave him the most distasteful look he could muster.

“It has better not be blood sausage.” He said. Flynn gave him a lecherous wink.

“I thought you liked sausage.”

_The pest._

Mathias sighed, refusing to gratify him with a response. A cool breeze rustled the hem of Flynn’s coat, and a few loose tendrils of his hair swept across his face in a glowing fan of bronze. He was a treat for the eye, at least, and even in the three days since he had left Mathias had forgotten how lovely he was. How soft he made his heart feel. How much he wanted Flynn to hold him against his chest and let him sleep there forever in his arms.

Or perhaps, how much he wanted to reach out and seize that damned ponytail.

Maybe it was the salt air, he told himself afterwards, or maybe it was the way that the sunlight was hitting his face _just_ right, but in that singular split-second instant, it seemed not only like it was an easy thing to do, but a natural one. Infinitely more than all those other botched attempts, in any case. The moment just felt _right,_ and Mathias Shaw didn’t hesitate because for the first time, he didn’t stop to register the thought as it happened – he simply thrust out a hand, plucked the hank of hair off the lapel of Flynn’s jacket, and gave it a gentle tug.

He had thought that Flynn might be mildly surprised. Amused even, by his rampant audacity. He had thought Flynn might laugh and knock his hand away, or give him a brief kiss on the forehead, or teasingly ask him what he had done with Mathias who was serially rational and _never_ joked around. Any of those things would have been a gratifying first step into the strange new realm of spontaneity, small and comfortable and just between the two of them until he began to feel more comfortable. He was _not_ expecting Flynn to respond as he did, swaying dangerously on the spot and uttering a sudden loud moan of pleasure as quickly as Mathias had done the thing itself.

_What the fuck was that!?_

Mathias stood there in shocked silence. Flynn clapped a hand over his mouth like he hoped it would put the noise he made back in. Even behind his fingers, Mathias could see he had turned brick red. The sound had been so loud, and so wanton, that it had drawn the attention of Flynn’s Deck Officer. She was craning her neck to see what on Azeroth was going on. He felt a deep blush begin to creep over his own face, because it didn’t take a genius to know what a noise like that would usually mean, and it would have taken a libido of steel not to respond to a sound so primal.

“You boys okay over here? Captain?”

The woman’s footsteps made the wooden deck creak as she wandered over. Mathias dropped Flynn’s ponytail and took a large step back, putting a chaste distance between himself and his significant other even though his heart was racing like they had been caught in a round of heavy petting. He could feel his dick was half hard in his pants.

“Fine,” He answered shortly, before Flynn could recompose himself. “Thank you. I was just leaving.”

Her eyes narrowed just a little, raking him up and down as though she wasn’t quite sure what to make of this rigid, well-groomed gentleman who looked like he might have suffered a terrible sunburn sometime in the last twenty-four hours. She turned to regard Flynn, who was still standing there wide eyed, and covering the bottom half of his face.

“Is this the man you were telling us about?” She asked.

Flynn’s eyes fluttered, shutting out everything around him briefly while he pulled himself together, before he dropped his hand.

“Yes,” he said, in a forced voice. He was avoiding Mathias’s gaze, moving to usher him off the boat and back to the gangplank before Mathias could even open his mouth to protest. “Like he said, he’s just leaving. I will see him tonight when I get home.”.

 _Oh no. Were they going to have to talk about this_?

Mathias hadn’t intended to embarrass Flynn at work. He hadn’t intended to push any buttons, or cause any trouble, and he _definitely_ had not intended to give himself a partial erection in public but in spite of all of these good intentions he found the shuffle down the gangplank very shameful indeed. There was no way in the universe that he could deny that that sound, the horny, astonished little moan he made when Mathias yanked his ponytail, was probably the sexiest thing Mathias had heard in his life.

He swore to himself that he would never do anything quite _that_ impulsive ever again.

…

Dinner was uncomfortable, to put it mildly.

They sat in silence, only really asking to pass the salt or commenting on how the weather had been while Flynn was at sea. Mathias did notice that Flynn had tidied his hair up – rather than tie it back, he wore it in a braid over his shoulder, and Mathias wondered if that was supposed to be an invitation, or a guarantee that if he tried to yank it again, Flynn would see his hand move for it when it darted past his face. Flynn seemed jumpier than usual, and he was still making a point of not meeting his eye. Maybe he would have been more annoyed about that under other circumstances, but Mathias knew that in fact there had never been circumstances quite like this one.

He pushed the last morsel of his KulTiramisu around his plate, and watched Flynn picking at a knot in the wood of the tabletop.

“So,” He finally asked, after a sufficiently awkward silence. “About this afternoon on the boat?”

“Ahhhhh yeah.” Flynn flushed and sat back in his seat with a heavy sigh. “That whole debacle. I was wondering if you might bring that up. What about it?”

“Well…” Mathias wasn’t exactly sure where to start. He looked at Flynn’s braid, an innocuous style that was becoming on him, but in the close cosy space of the apartment it felt more like it might have been a snake ready to strike at any moment. Of course, Flynn caught him looking. For a moment, seafoam blue eyes met his own, and he felt his heart turn over in his chest.

“I guess I should probably start by apologizing.” He settled on eventually. “It really wasn’t appropriate for me to touch you like that without asking first.”

Not that it would have occurred to him to ask about something that seemed so casual. He had put his hands all over Flynn, after all, in places that seemed much more intimate than his hair, and he wondered if Flynn was duly aware of this because his response, rather than accepting the apology, was to return with his own.

“Actually, I should apologise to you. I should’ve told you about it ages ago. I just didn’t because. Well.” He grimaced and Mathias noticed him twisting his finger around the end of his braid nervously as he spoke. “It’s not really an easy subject to just bring up you know.”

“Uh huh. Yes that’s fine. I suppose that makes sense.”

How did one bring up, in explicit terms, the kinds of touches that would make them moan like a Tramp in Dampwick? They had never really talked about this stuff before. Since their very first kiss, Mathias had yielded to Flynn as easily as a blade of grass bent underfoot, and Flynn had taught himself through experimentation how to touch him, so he could make Mathias’ toes curl in delight and use his body as a conduit for his own pleasure. Until now, Mathias had always thought it a good system, but he had never heard Flynn make a sound like that until now. It occurred to him as he sat at the dinner table regarding his beloved that perhaps there were aspects of Flynn’s sexuality he had not yet been privy too. That maybe he _would_ have been privy to, if instead of simply allowing himself to be taken, he had responded in kind.

Flynn gave him a small smile, before dropping his hand and making to clear the table of their plates. Mathias watched him move the plates to the kitchenette, rinse them, and leave them on the rack to be scrubbed properly later. He looked nice in his house clothes, a delicate linen tunic and rustic cotton pants, and the shadows of the evening flattered the muscles in his arms and back.

 _Should I ask,_ He mused, tilting his head a little, admiring how Flynn’s ass looked described by rough cloth. He knew from experience that that ass was fantastic to grip when he was fucking him.

“Say, Captain,” Mathias made his decision and pulled himself to his feet. “You wouldn’t object to me doing that again at some stage, would you? It seemed rather obvious to me that… well. You seemed to enjoy it.”

Flynn froze for a moment, Mathias could feel his mind clicking and trying to formulate a suitable response, before he sighed and turned around to face him.

“If you want?” He said, doubtfully. “But if you don’t mind me saying, I don’t think you’d be all that interested in what it’ll do. You _are_ a little more mild than what I'm used to.”

He pulled a face, one that Mathias couldn’t really make heads of trails of. He did have a sneaking suspicion, though, as to what he was implying, and thought with a cold foreboding that maybe he should prepare to feel slighted.

“And what do you mean by that, Captain? ‘Mild’?”

“Well,” Flynn laughed uncomfortably and leaned back against the edge of the sink. “You really are just a straight up bottom. Not a very experimental one. I didn’t want to say anything about it, since you always seemed pretty satisfied. It didn’t seem… I don’t know. Important I guess?”

Mathias was correct. He _did_ feel slighted. What was that even supposed to _mean_? ‘Not a very experimental one’? Did Flynn expect him to be fucking like a drunken sailor might? Or turning tricks like he was getting paid to ride his dick? He took umbrage at the mere suggestion, but not as much as he took to think that Flynn had implied he was _boring._ Had he not enjoyed the sex as much as Mathias thought he did, then? Really?

“May I remind you,” Mathias told him testily, “That I’m a master Assassin?”

His company obviously didn’t get what that particular fact had to do with anything. 

“Uh, I know?” he frowned and toyed with the end of his braid again. “What about it?”

“What about it is that even if _you_ seem to think I’m boring, I’m definitely not.”

“Huh?”

Now Flynn was even more perplexed.

“Mat, I didn’t say I thought you were _boring._ I just meant that you're a little bit white bread in bed!”

Oh wow. It hurt even more when he put it so starkly.

Mathias narrowed his eyes, feeling a flare of something furious and utterly irresponsible striking through him. He could ignore or resist it, he knew as much, but for the first time in his life he didn’t even consider doing so. Instead, he stepped closer, covering the distance between Flynn and himself in an instant. He was inches from Flynn’s chest before he even had a chance to notice, and when he did notice he almost stepped away in surprise.

_Too slow._

Rather than disarming him, or sticking a short dagger deep into his throat, Mathias seized his braid and gave it a firm pull. Probably harder than he might have, if he wasn’t feeling so damn insulted. Flynn’s eyes widened in shock, legs nearly giving way beneath him like they had on the _Arva_ , and a hand flew up to grasp weakly at Mathias’ wrist.

“ _Fuckkkk_ me!”

“Is that a request? Or an expletive?”

He tightened his grip, and Flynn whimpered. The sound was deeply satisfying, and still shockingly erotic. Mathias was accustomed to the usual sounds he made when they lay together, his little huffs and heavy breathing and the low, drawn out groan he did when he finished, but this sound was altogether something else. It went straight to his loins, made his cheeks pink with excitement, but still he held tight and tried to hold Flynn’s gaze with the same cold intensity he favoured when scolding subordinates. The bigger man’s eyes fluttered, a flush spreading across his nose and turning his ears red, and it was evident he was struggling to not turn into a gooey mess on the floor

“Is this punishment for not doing the laundry yesterday?” He murmured, voice strained with arousal and embarrassment. 

“Punishment?” Mathias was intrigued by the word choice. “Not at all. This is for saying I’m a bad fuck.”

Even if it _did_ happen to be true, Mathias didn’t much like hearing it.

He slid his hand down the braid and pulled the tie from the end. Undoing it was easier than he had thought it would be - the silkiness of his locks made it slip loose with hardly any effort, and Flynn just stood there and let him with his eyes averted and his lips pressed together nervously.

“Noted,” He murmured, as Mathias ran his fingers through the length, savoring the smoothness, the colour, and the scent. “But there's something else you should know. If you really want to do this to me.”

“Go on.”

“… I'm not sure I'm going to be able to be on top if you're going to fuck around with my hair.”

Ah. The catch.

Mathias hesitated, hand buried in the softness against the side of Flynn’s scalp.

“Use your mouth then?” he asked. Flynn shook his head, a barely perceptible gesture that filled him with something akin to despair.

_Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea after all._

“Honestly, Mat? I just kind of want you to fuck me.”

Unfortunate.

Mathias had never done that before. In truth he had never even thought about it. For a moment, his resolution faltered, and he felt as though perhaps Flynn was right. He _was_ boring and uninspired. He was hesitant, a human vessel for his training only, and his training had been exclusively in the field of self-control. Unlike being in charge of SI:7, his skillset was absolutely not suited to being in charge of lascivious acts, and acknowledging this left him with the question: What now then? Should he stop? Should he just admit that Flynn was right, and he was dull, and he could never really satisfy him in the same way that he was satisfied when Flynn took control?

Mathias bit his lip, and tugged softly on Flynn’s hair again so he could remember the way he shivered, and the sound his breath made as it caught in the back of his throat.

It really was a sumptuous response. Enticing. He felt the strange fog of arousal come upon himself, and at the back of his mind, a thought.

_You can do this, actually, if you don’t think too hard about it._

Undeed, Mathias realized, he very much wanted to.

Gripping Flynn’s hair tight, he leaned in and kissed him on the lips. It was a short, experimental kind of kiss, and Flynn met him with an unfamiliar urgency, following him as he pulled away.

“I suppose I can try,” He conceded, feeling a nervous wave break over him even as he said it. “But I swear on the life of the King himself. If things go badly, or I fuck up an embarrass myself, you aren’t allowed to make fun of me for it afterwards. Understand?”

Flynn nodded. Mathias had no choice but to believe him. He pulled his face closer again, tilted his chin ever so slightly, and kissed him again.

Flynn had always been an enthusiastic kisser, but this time the press of his tongue was far more demanding, and his teeth sunk against Mathias’ bottom lip in a way that might have been painful if it wasn’t so exhilarating. Mathias had never been so fond of receiving roughness, but giving it? It didn’t seem as bad in the moment as he might have thought. He bit back, tightening his hold on Flynn’s hair, and when Flynn arched into him, he could feel he was hard through his pants.

What next?

Go to bed?

Yes, that seemed appropriate. Mathias pulled at him, they stumbled across the apartment with clumsy enthisiasm. Flynn seemed keen to strip his clothes off, and Mathias wasn’t going to stop him. He pulled off his own uniform – his shoulderpiece, his chest, his trousers – with a practiced competence, and when his pants were off it was evident that his cock was hard. Flynn’s hands were on him in no time, and the kisses and caresses began to all blur together into a clamor of pleasure. He almost forgot, for a moment, what he was now expected to do, until he pulled Flynn against him and felt the other man guide his hands back up to the side of his head.

“Keep going,” He breathed, “You can pull harder.”

“Mm. Okay right. Give me a moment.”

It was a strange feeling, to be the one pushing Flynn down onto the mattress and straddling his hips. He leaned over, fumbling for the lubricating oil they had stashed in the top drawer of the bedside table, and thank the gods for his stable hands because he knew he would be spilling it _everywhere_ if he wasn’t so well practiced at holding his body still.

“Roll over,” He said, without thinking, kneeling up so Flynn could twist underneath him, onto his stomach. He certainly looked... different from this angle. Broad shouldered. Muscular. Dotted with freckles even in the places the sun didn’t touch. His back bore the waxy white sinews of past mistakes, and his ass was alarmingly smooth and firm. He had sunk his nails into his ass plenty of times, leaving crescent moon marks on his pale skin, but the flesh felt different when he caressed it this time. Flynn inhaled sharply when he pinched him, curious to see what would happen, and he was not disappointed with the response. Flynn gasped, squirming beneath him, and the only way to make him still was to press a hand firmly against the small of his back.

“Fingers,” Mathias said, thankful that he knew how to do this part, at least. Flynn lifted his hips, wordless, his hair slipping across his shoulder blades and coming to lie against the side of his neck.

He made that sound once more, identical to the one he made when his hair was pulled, as Mathias oiled his fingers and began to work him open. It had the same effect it had on the boat, but amplified, because Mathias was already horny and already reveling in the satisfaction of the experience. He curled his fingers, seeking the spot he sought in himself when he was alone, and Flynn’s gasping, desperate noises became long and indulgent when he rubbed his fingers against it.

All this time they had been together, and Flynn hadn't suggested even _once_ that he might want Mathias to touch him like this. It seemed a shame, looking back, but at the same time the potential for the future seemed _endless._

Actually putting his dick in him though?

That was a little more daunting.

Mathias surprised himself with how, in spite of never having done this before, he vaguely knew what to do. Unlike all the skills he had trained to develop, he felt the instinct of how to do this deep inside himself, guiding him like a light in the darkness towards the acts that would give him enjoyment. Flynn’s body quivered as he replaced his fingers with the tip of his erection, rocking his pelvis back in invitation to keep going and sink in all the way to the hilt. He was hot. His grip was tight. It felt better than his mouth did, and fleetingly Mathias wondered if this was what his body felt like when it ceded to Flynn too.

Mathias swallowed a groan, reached down, and curled his fingers in Flynn’s hair again. With a perfectly measured degree of force, he wrenched it tight, and Flynn’s head jerked back sharply. A yelp tore from his chest.

 _“Mat,_ ” He gasped. “please fuck me.”

By all means.

When Mathias gave his first tentative thrust, he found that the already tremendous sensation of being buried in Flynn’s body would not uncouple from the knowledge of how it felt to receive. How perfect it was to be stretched, and to have a cock rubbing sweetly inside him. The movements felt natural in almost an instant, as though he had been doing it all his life, and his hand in Flynn’s hair became so tight that he thought perhaps he might tear his hair from his scalp if he wasn’t careful. The tighter he yanked though, the more Flynn seemed to like it, and as the pace of his hips increased Flynn began panting, making soft pleas through the sound of their skin kissing, dragging the blankets beneath them into furrowed valleys of bliss.

“Harder,” He begged, and Mathias could not have denied him even if he wanted to. This was his point of no return – there was no planning for this, nor was there any hope of restraint, and in the maelstrom of their breathing and the sheer ecstasy of his flesh, Mathias gave him exactly what he wanted.

Flynn finished on his dick without even touching himself, exponentially faster than he did under usual circumstances. The clench of his muscles was tangible, surprising, and unspeakably good. Mathias felt himself buckle, teetering on the cusp of his own orgasm. He jerked Flynn’s head back again, bowing over him so he could reach, and pushing their lips together he drunk the sounds Flynn made as he rode out his release. Flynn’s breath caught as he welcomed him to finish inside.

It really was wonderful. Thoughtless. Bliss. As the last shudder of climax faded from him, Mathias thought that he was satisfied all the way down to his bones.

He released Flynn’s hair, pulling back from their embrace, and collapsed weakly on the mattress beside him to catch his breath.

Flynn turned himself over, onto his side, and Mathias let him curl around his body to cradle him even though he was sweaty and hot, and covered in his own cum.

“What were you saying about being mild?” Mathias was panting, a fit man but not a twenty-year-old, any longer, for sure. Flynn laughed, giddy, his fingers sinking into the hard muscle of Mathias’s hip, his nose sliding against his throat until he could seed kisses along his jaw.

“Still waters run deep,” He told him affectionately. “You reckless deviant.”

Reckless deviant? Probably the only tie in history anyone had called him that.

Mathias thought he could live with it.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter for more quality nonsense.
> 
> Xoxo  
> Your friend Garf


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